


One For Me, One For You

by hersheylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, SO FLUFFY AND GROSS, based off a tumblr prompt, this is shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hersheylarry/pseuds/hersheylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One For Me, One For You (alternatively: Twix)</p>
<p>Love at first sight isn't a thing. It's not. In no universe can you fall in love with somebody by looking at them once. Be infatuated with them, definitely, but not love. So Louis really isn't sure what this feeling is. </p>
<p>A tall, dark-haired boy that looks to be around twenty is sat to the left of Louis waiting for the tube. He's got a plaid shirt on, black skinnies that could give Louis' a run of their money, and brown boots. He smells like cinnamon gum and cologne, but not a gross middle school boy kind. A manly kind. There also so happens to be a shit eating grin spread on his face as he looks down at his two Twix bars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One For Me, One For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii
> 
> So! This is a little tiny fic based off a post on tumblr that I can't actually find. If I mage to, I'll be sure to credit it (if you know which it is, please comment with the link!). Wrote this in an hour, so any grammatical/spelling mistakes are totally mine. Kudos and feedback welcomed! 
> 
> xoxo :)

Love at first sight isn't a thing. It's not. In no universe can you fall in love with somebody by looking at them once. Be infatuated with them, definitely, but not love. So Louis really isn't sure what this feeling is.

A tall, dark-haired boy that looks to be around twenty is sat to the left of Louis waiting for the tube. He's got a plaid shirt on, black skinnies that could give Louis' a run of their money, and brown boots. He smells like cinnamon gum and cologne, but not a gross middle school boy kind. A manly kind. There also so happens to be a shit eating grin spread on his face as he looks down at his two Twix bars. And, what the fuck? Boys like that are only supposed to be in movies. Or models or members of boy bands that Louis would totally obsess over if he was sixteen (and maybe in secret now). Louis is pretty sure that there are people willing to carry this boy atop of their shoulders to any place of his choice, so why in hell is this work of art sitting beside Louis? Perhaps he has had a recent trauma to the brain, or is just flat out stupid.

The boy starts humming a tune that is all too similar to Louis' favourite Grease song. For a moment, Louis pinches himself, because there can not be a person in the world that is hotter than the sun and also hums to the best soundtrack of all time. It doesn't happen. Yet here he is, reading the nutrition facts on the Twix wrapper and singing Beauty School Dropout. There's some sort of warmth radiating in Louis' chest, spilling stupid thoughts into his brain like, 'ask for his number' or 'maybe he's your soulmate and you're destined to spend the rest of your lives together'. If Louis has to wake up to any one face for the next sixty years, Twix boy's sure would suffice. That mop of brown curls would be all messy, and he'd have a deep morning voice that would greet Louis and maybe he could use his pink pink lips for something much more r-rated. That might be nice.

But, who is Louis kidding, that masterpiece wouldn't dare look his way. Even if his ass is probably equivalent to Beyonce's, he's really not much. Like, not completely hideous, but no man would ever run a mile for him. He's average; his blue eyes and tan-ish skin are rather unremarkable. Plus, he's the most sarcastic person to walk on the earth, his tendency to talk without realizing what he's saying can get him into trouble, and he spends far too many nights alone with Masterchef reruns and a bowl of mint chocolate chip. Don't even get him started on his elf-like height, which pails in comparison to the giant beside him. Louis' mind wanders off.

The boys's feet are quite big, you know what they say about that. He's definitely at least eight inches. Louis would say more, but his dick would be too big for those damn jeans.

"Hi,". A deep, soft voice booms booms from beside Louis. It was the man, who's now staring at Louis with the same smirk and twine in his eye as minutes ago. In his mind, Louis considers all the possible reasons he's talking to him. 1. He actually has been injured in the head, in which case Louis would very much like to kiss it better, 2. God is dangling him on a string in front of Louis, taunting him to "look but don't touch" because of some terrible thing Louis did in a past life, and 3. this boy just wants to talk. It's definitely number one.

"Hey," it comes out like a squeak. "Hey," Louis adjusts his voice so he doesn't sound like an idiot.

"'M Harry, how about you?".

"Louis,". For two syllables, it packs a lot of emotion. There's a hint of flirting, mixed with some confusion, and a heavy dose of why are you talking to me you gorgeous stranger.

"That's a very nice name. Where are you headed?". Most people do not make conversation like this with someone that they do not even know, or at least anybody Louis has ever met. But there's a feeling in his chest that gives tells him Harry probably isn't anything like a normal person. Not in a bad way, not that at all. It's just that there's a certain sincerity in his voice, a kind tone that welcomes Louis and his answer with open arms and genuine interest. Like he might not be quite as shit as the other 6, 999, 999, 999 people in the world.

"Oh, Piccadilly. Doing some Christmas shopping before everything gets crazy,".

"Wow, I wish I could be more like you," that's not quite right, Louis thinks, "Last year, I didn't buy my mum's gift until Christmas Eve.".

"Really? Weren't all the shops closed?".

"Nah, I think they purposefully leave a few open for the idiots like me,".

"Aw, I'm sure you're not an idiot.". Harry looks at him, eyes filled with wonder and amusement. Like Louis just told him all the secrets in the world.

"Thank you, Louis…".

"Tomlinson,".

"Styles,". Huh, they sound quite good together.

(Louis promised himself he would not make mountains out of molehills, but with when one's name combines so beautifully with another's, it is completely appropriate to name future children)

"Nice,".

There is silence, but it is not uncomfortable in any way. It isn't awkward, doesn't make Louis want to crawl under a table and hide. Time just sort of stops, or everything but them. The commuters rushing to work and the trains speeding by are non-existent. All that matters is Harry, Louis, and those damn Twix bars.

"Well, Louis Tomlinson, would you like the other half of my Twix?".

"Not your heart? I though things were going quiet smoothly…". How is it that they are teasing each other already? It's been about five minutes, but they're comfortable with this. Louis' mind wanders down the rabbit hole for the hundredth time this hour; maybe there's some sort of connection between them. Maybe they're soul mates. Maybe they will go on to live love stories greater than any Nicholas Sparks book. But for right now, Louis just really likes talking. And looking into Harry's eyes, and admiring the aura of perfection that is smothering Louis.

"I've always tried that, but it always scares them off.".

"Oh, you'd like to keep me around then?".

"If you wouldn't mind.".

"Certainly not, Styles. I imagine we will share many Twix bars in the years to come.".

(Spoiler Alert: they will. Probably hundreds. Or at least enough for Harry to get down on one knee in this exact spot and ask Louis if he'd like 'to share Twix bars for the rest of their lives'. Another Spoiler Alert: Louis says yes and the dessert at their wedding is Chocolate Mousse Cake and Twix ice cream).

"Well, just to make sure, would you, uh, want to- you know…".

"Are you asking me for my number, Harold?".

"Well now that you've mentioned it!". They switch their phones and type in their respective phone numbers. Harry saves his contact as Harold Styles, Twix boy, which makes Louis giggle like a school girl.

And, honestly, Louis is a bit more of a KitKat kind of guy, but Twix bars just taste so much better now that he gets to share them (it's probably the person he's sharing them with).


End file.
